


Decisions & Revisions

by tocourtdisaster



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-28
Updated: 2011-06-28
Packaged: 2017-10-20 20:10:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tocourtdisaster/pseuds/tocourtdisaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a minute of silence, of inaction. The possibilities are endless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decisions & Revisions

**Author's Note:**

> I was reading 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock' earlier and one phrase jumped out at me and, thus, this post-TGG fic was born. I know it's all been done a million times before by writers a ton more talented than me, but knowing that doesn't stop my brain from nagging at me until I've written it down.

In a minute there is time  
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.  
\--T.S. Eliot, 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock'

 _What happens is:_

John nods his head.

Sherlock levels the gun.

Moriarty adopts an expression of mild curiosity.

There is a minute of silence, of inaction.

The possibilities are endless.

 

*

 

 _One:_

John could tackle Sherlock into the pool the instant the other man pulls the trigger of the gun. He knows he's faster than the snipers, that he would have crucial milliseconds before the snipers could react. He knows that once they're in the water, they'll be relatively safe from bullets, that the rounds will either fragment on impact with the water or veer wildly off course before they can do any harm to John and Sherlock.

John doesn't know if he's faster than the force of an explosion, if the concussion of the blast would be magnified by the water or diminished. If he knew for certain how much explosive material was attached to the vest, he might be able to make an educated guess, but he doesn't know and he can't risk making things worse.

 

*

 

 _Two:_

Sherlock could shift his aim by fifteen degrees and the bullet fired from John's illegal firearm would travel at fifteen hundred feet per second to penetrate Moriarty's brain before his snipers could react. He would be dead before he hit the ground.

There are too many variables, though. How long would it take for the snipers to overcome their surprise and put their own bullets through Sherlock's brain, through _John's_? Could Sherlock move quickly enough to get them both out of the line of fire before that happened?

He doesn't know and that is what stays his hand.

 

*

 

 _Three:_

Moriarty could end this all simply enough. All he needs to do is speak one word, gesture a certain way, and Sherlock Holmes and his doctor are nothing but yesterday's news. Depending on which cue he gives, they could die quickly, slowly, or not at all. Their lives are in Moriarty's hands and it is _splendid_.

Of course, if he ends them, he ends the game and he's quite certain he's not ready to stop playing yet.

 

*

 

 _What happens is:_

John tenses his muscles.

Sherlock holds the gun steady.

Moriarty straightens his shoulders.

The silence stretches out, the number of possible futures diminishing with each tick of the clock.

And then--

 

*


End file.
